Imagine You Loved Me
by kat-andmouse-4eva
Summary: Faberrittana AU-Santana loves Quinn. Brittany loves Santana. Then, if the love triangle wasn't enough, Rachel Berry moves to McKinley, and ends up stealing Quinn's heart.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, Em here. This is my new Faberrittana fic. Heads up-Quinntana and Brittberry endgame. Enjoy!_

**Rachel's POV:**

I've always been spectacular at making friends. When I first started school, I had a large group of friends within the first few hours. I guess it's just good genes and the fact that I'm never alone. I've been practicing my social skills since I was two months old-about the time I started talking. Yes, that's correct-I started talking, and by talking I mean short, yet actually quite intelligent, sentences, at two months old. I started singing not long after that. You see, I'm a quick learner in everything I do; it's just in my genes. I'm also good in everything I do. I'll have you know I'm a sufficient chef, cleaner, reader, writer, mathematician, gardener, painter, sculptor, and also an incredibly talented singer. Of course, there are many other things I'm good at, but I wouldn't want to bore you. See-that's one of my social skills; knowing when to stop talking about yourself. Obviously, if I had the chance, I'd talk about myself 24/7, seeing as I lead a very interesting lifestyle, but most people would rather I didn't, which is a shame, but if I want to get along with people, I have to abide by these rules.

However, despite the fact that I am, you could say, a social butterfly, I've never been fantastic at romantic relationships; I'm only good at creating and maintaining the purely platonic ones. It's a shame, that's for sure. I mean, in San Francisco, I never got lonely, of course, as I was surrounded by my large group of companions, but it would've been nice to have someone I could call my boyfriend. You know, sometimes, when I had finished doing my homework, practicing my montage of Barbra Streisand songs and socializing, I'd daydream about the ideal date with said boyfriend. I had many, but my personal favourite was simply divine-he (despite having many a daydream, he never acquired a name-I couldn't find one that would do my leading man justice) would take me to see a Broadway show, probably Funny Girl or maybe Les Mis, which we'd both enjoy thoroughly. He'd then take me to the most adorable little bistro, which, despite it's size, was incredibly expensive. However, being the gentleman he was, he'd pay the bill. He'd take me home, and drop me off at my doorstep, where he'd give me a goodnight kiss, like in one of those cheesy rom-coms I hate to love. My parents, of course, would absolutely adore this young man, almost as much as I loved him.

But, alas, I've never been lucky in the love department. My two dads (yes, that's right, two-another one of my social skills is not being homophobic, and I have my two gay dads to thank) always tell me it's because of my astounding talent, and that intimidates every potential boyfriend, as they don't have a vocal talent to match mine. I used to believe it, but sometimes, I think it might me that intimidates them. So what if I'm a little ambitious, and driven? There's nothing wrong with that! Wouldn't a man like a young woman with a goal in life? Then again, most men these days, or at least the ones I've encountered, only care about boobs (yet another department I'm not lucky in). Nevertheless, I have promised both myself and my dads that I will never give up my hopes and dreams for some boy. Hopefully I'll never have to, as my leading man will have to share my goals in life.

Anyway, as I was saying originally, before I got off track, I'm spectacular at making friends, always have, and hopefully always will. My charisma will certainly come in handy now, as I've started a new school. My daddy got relocated in his job, so we've been moved to some odd town called Lima, which is situated in Ohio. I can't help but think that Lima is an odd name, and, judging my by surroundings, I'm betting 99% of the population have no idea what a lima bean is, or how versatile it is, and that it can be used in a large variety of different meals-and luckily quite a few of those are vegan.

I guess I forgot to explain-I'm a vegan. But that's irrelevant at the moment.

I've started a new school, called McKinley High. I highly doubt that this high school caters to those who excel in musical arts, like my old school. Maybe I should suggest it to the school board? Well, not yet, of course, I've only just started, and I want to make a good impression on my peers. Maybe later in the year, when I've settled down, and made my new group of friends who are having to replace the ones in San Fran.

My dads wake me up at 7am, like usual, so I have plenty of time to get ready for my school day. My daddy, the main chef in the household, had made me vegan pancakes, which I top with mashed banana and vegan chocolate spread-normally I'd steer clear of food such as pancakes, but today, I decided, was an exception.

"What will you be wearing today, honey?" My daddy asks, peering over the top of his newspaper. I smile at him, swallowing the banana that was in my mouth. You see, fashion is very important in our household.

"My Necessary Objects print dress, I think, daddy. " I tell him, and he replies with a smile. I knew he'd like that, seeing as he picked it out himself.

My dad walks in, giving me a kiss on the cheek, before he pours himself a cup of coffee. I finish off my pancakes, putting the dish in the dishwasher, before I walk upstairs to my room to get ready for my big day ahead.

I hop into the shower (not literally, of course, otherwise that could result in serious injuries), and let the warm water rush over me. I sigh contentedly; who doesn't love a hot shower in the morning?

I dry myself with the huge, fluffy towel and go to my closet. I carefully pull out my Necessary Objects dress, making sure not to crease it. I smile to myself-I do love this dress. Now to decide which shoes would go with it.

I slip the dress over my head when I'm completely dry. I search through my extensive shoe collection for my Tory Burch pumps, which takes quite a while (like I said-_extensive_). I place them by the bed so they're easy to slip on once I've finished brushing my teeth and doing my hair.

I'm done in about ten minutes. It took me about three minutes to brush my teeth, then seven to do my hair. You see, I've taken such great care of my glossy, pin straight locks that they're completely manageable. I wake up in the morning and my hair is near perfect. It's a gift. There have been many girls (and boys, as well) who have commented on the spectacular condition of my hair.

I slip on my pumps and skip happily down the stairs, careful not to fall head first down the stairs, otherwise that would be quite a major disaster, and it's not a good idea to start a new school with a massive black eye.

My daddy is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, car keys in hand. He grins at me as I reached the bottom. My dad comes out into the hallway to say goodbye and to wish me luck. He kisses me on the cheek, gives me a famous Berry bear hug and hands me my school bag.

My daddy drives me to school. We don't talk, because he's afraid of saying the wrong thing and making me nervous, so instead, we let the powerful, emotional vocals of Barbra Streisand wash over us. My nerves are gone in an instant.

We reach the school and my daddy gives me a quick kiss. He wishes me good luck and I get out of the car and inspect my surroundings. I was immediately swarmed by young girls clad in cheerleading uniforms. None of them pay me attention-they're much to busy chattering away to one another, or texting on their BlackBerrys.

I tentatively readjust my shoulder bag and walk into the school, careful not to knock into anyone-I don't want to start a fight _already_.

I know where I'm going-I talked to the Principal on the phone last night, and I have a map, as well. I walk to my locker, feeling slightly more confident and eager to start the day. I've always loved school, the lessons, and the friends…

That reminds me. I open my locker and deposit a few books in there. I start to spruce up my locker with little trinkets and knickknacks that are close to the heart-a picture of my dads on the inside of the door, along with a picture of Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone. After decorating my locker, I pull my checklist out of my bag. Yes, my checklist. NO, I'm not some creepy girl who writes lists about everything and anything. Everyday I have a to-do list, and I strive to make sure I complete each and everyone of those challenges. I look down my list, smiling and nodding to myself. Yes, I will complete this, I _know _I will. It'll be a breeze. I pull out my pen and go down the list. Okay, get to school without any drama…check. Decorate my locker…I look up and smile. Check. Next on the list is to meet someone new, and potentially gain them as a friend. Just as I'm putting my checklist and pen away in my bag, I feel someone tap on my shoulder. Oh, no, has some huge jock decided to victimize me because he could tell I was new? What gave it away? The fact that I decorated my locker? Damn me and my checklist-completing ways! I take a deep breath and turn around, bracing myself. Instead of a 6"5' jock stood in front of me, I am faced with a blonde girl, a few inches taller than me. Her hair is long, and blonde, very…Disney princess-esque. She gives me a small, timid smile and extends her hand.

"I'm Quinn." She tells me, waiting for me to introduce myself. I compose myself and stand up straight and tall, flashing her my best stage smile. I take her hand and shake it, firmly, but not so much that she's overwhelmed.

"I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry."


	2. Chapter 2

_This next chapter basically follows Quinn, but it's in third person. Oh, and this is set at the start of Rachel, Quinn, Santana and Brittany's junior year (season 2) and there is a Glee club, just minus Rachel (for now). Enjoy, and please review! It would mean a lot._

Quinn's been through a lot. She started off at the top and then stupidly let Puck get on top of her. That was when her perfect world came crashing down. She found out she was pregnant, got kicked out of her house, then her boyfriend, Finn, found out the baby was not his, but, in fact, his supposed best friend. But now she was a junior, and she was determined to make her life perfect again, like it used to be, before her stupid mistake.

She actually felt quite happy with her life. She was focusing on herself. Sure, she wasn't captain of the Cheerios yet, and she definitely wasn't popular, but still. She had Glee Club, and she loved it. They were like one, huge, odd family. They loved and fought each other.

Quinn had vowed to herself to stop messing around with silly _boys _and instead have some 'me-time'. She was nearly back to the dress size she was when she was cheer captain. The stretch marks would always be there, constantly reminding her of the year before, but at least she looked good with her size 4 clothes on.

She was still trying to get in contact with her dad. After Regionals, when her mother had taken her back in because she divorced her father, Quinn decided to find him. Unfortunately, he wanted nothing to do with her, nor her mother. He was too busy gallivanting around Europe with his heavily tattooed girlfriend who was only 4 years older than Quinn herself. Every so often she'd send her dad a letter, or a card on his birthday, or at Christmas, but she never got a reply. Her mother reassured her it probably got lost in the post-they _were _halfway across the world, after all-but Quinn knew that was a lie. She knew he refused to reply because of two reasons-he was ashamed of Quinn for getting knocked up, and he was ashamed in himself for getting together with some tattooed freak. But Quinn wouldn't give up. Eventually he'd give in. Quinn _always _got what she wanted, no matter what it was. Everything. Whether it be boys, clothes, solos. She got it. Of course, she was finished with boys now. But you get the idea.

Actually, she wasn't just done with boys; she was done with dating in general. She was over feelings and romance and kisses. Which was why, when she came through the front doors of McKinley, she didn't really expect to be drawn to the obviously new girl stood at her locker. But she was. Quinn didn't know _why _she was. She couldn't even see the girl's face clearly; for all she knew, she could look like a man. For all she knew, she _could _be a man. Quinn had to know for sure. That's what she was telling herself as she walked over to the brunette; you're just seeing what she looks like, no biggie. And then Quinn scolded herself for using the word 'biggie'; who was she, Puck?

Quinn smoothed down her white, cotton dress and then tapped the surprisingly short girl on the shoulder. Quinn glanced down; despite the fact that this girl was wearing pumps, she was still at least four inches shorter than herself. She quickly looked up and into the deep, soulful brown eyes that belonged to the girl. Quinn smiled tentatively, awkwardly sticking out her hand. She tried to stop her cheeks from flushing, but she could feel the heat rising.

"I'm Quinn." The blonde managed to say, feeling proud of herself for not stuttering or tripping over her words. The girl smiled, shaking her hand effortlessly, a huge smile that reached her eyes plastered on her face. Quinn couldn't help noticing how white her teeth were.

"I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry."

And in that instance, Quinn fell harder than she ever had before. Harder than when she fell for Finn, or Puck. She blinked a couple of times, biting her lip. Was it too soon to tell this Rachel girl that she thought she was beautiful? No, not beautiful-_flawless_. Probably.

"H-hi." Quinn spluttered, mentally kicking herself for being such a dweeb. Rachel didn't notice-she continued to grin brightly at the blonde. Rachel nodded, saying a cheerful 'hello' back. Quinn looked around awkwardly. Did she leave? Or did she offer to show Rachel around? She didn't do either of those things.

"Nice locker," She practically yelled. She clamped a hand over her mouth. Oh my gosh, Q, nice going, this girl probably thinks you're a retard. "I-I mean, nice decoration. Not the actual locker. Not that it isn't nice, it-it's just…" Quinn rambled, fighting the urge to just run off right there. Rachel was watching her, a slight smile on her face. Not a malicious or bemused one. Just…a nice one.

"Thank you." Rachel nodded, then quickly explained how she had to continue with her to-do list. She apologized politely, but Quinn understood, nodding.

"Of course. I, um, I'll see you around, I guess." She turned around, looking completely normal on the outside, albeit a little flushed, but she was screaming on the inside. She wanted to look back to see if Rachel was watching her, but she was afraid if she was, she'd lose her sense of direction and go careering into a wall, or worse, a person. So she continued walking down the hall, without a backwards glance. She passed Santana, who was staring at her rather intently. She didn't bother asking her what she was looking at; Santana was one of the sassiest, most sarcastic people she'd ever had the misfortunate to meet, so she'd probably reply with a razor sharp, bitchy insult, and Quinn was _not _in the mood. She never was, really, but usually she could just ignore it. She was sure that if Santana were to yell some insult at her, she'd just flip and whack that girl in the face. She definitely deserved it. Every time she opened her mouth, she was practically _begging _to be hit. Every word Santana uttered was grating and irritating. Every sentence that came out of her mouth was rude, obnoxious and just plain offensive. So, really, no one could ever blame anyone for roundhouse kicking that girl in the face; in fact, if Quinn ever saw someone doing that to Santana, instead of making sure she was okay, she'd probably pat the person who attacked Santana on the back and send them a bunch of flowers for finally doing something she had to for years. You're asking; if Quinn wanted to do it so much, why didn't she? Oh, she would've loved to. She would've relished in the fact that she just attacked, and probably hurt, 'Miss Lima Heights Adjacent'. But they were 'friends', according to everyone. Um, no. Just because they joined the Cheerios together, does not make them BFFs. That was Santana and Brittany. Sometimes Quinn wondered how Britt could stand someone like Santana. Granted, Santana never once insulted Brittany. But surely the other cheerleader would eventually grow tired of Santana putting other people down? Obviously not; they were still joined at the hip (or rather, joined at the pinky finger).

Quinn walked to her first lesson, praying that Rachel wasn't in it. She sat down at the front, pushing her bag under her chair. Pretty much everyone was already there. She breathed out a sigh of relief, settling back in her chair, thinking that Rachel was in another class. Oh, how wrong she was. Because, right at that moment, the small brunette wandered in, looking around the classroom, a slightly terrified look on her face. She spotted Quinn at the front, who immediately blushed and ducked her head. She heard the scraping of the chair next to her and quickly composed herself. The blonde looked up, smiling timidly at Rachel, who returned it.

This was going to be a long lesson.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/added this story to their favourites, it means so much! Slightly shorter chapter this time, hope you don't mind. Brittany is up next! Enjoy!_

**Santana's POV:**

If you asked anyone-_anyone_-who went to McKinley High School, they'd tell you Quinn and I are 'frenemies for life'. We hate each other most of the time. What they wouldn't tell you, is that I am madly in love with Quinn-even though it's true. I know-we fight, like, everyday over the stupidest things, but I've fallen for her. And it's not some schoolgirl crush, or anything. It's not fun being in love, it fucking _hurts__**. **_Every time I see Q talking to someone mildly attractive and popular, it feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest. Of course, I'd never admit this to anyone. I have to maintain my reputation and badass-ness. And badasses do _not_, under any circumstances, fall in love-especially not with their frenemy, who is a _girl_. I'm not gay. I don't know what I am. I don't give a fuck about labels. All I know is that I'm in love with Quinn and she will never love me back.

I don't when these feelings came around…I guess they've always sort of been there, but I never addressed them till recently. I met Quinn on the first day at McKinley. We bonded over cheerleading, and being popular and hot. Shortly after, I met Brittany. And not long after that, when the three of us had climbed up the social ladder of McKinley, Quinn screwed me over. She spread a rumor that I was a virgin. Which, I hasten to add, was a complete lie. Quinn was the fucking virgin, not me. I lost mine about a year prior, to some friend of my cousin's. But everyone bought it and I lost my popularity briefly, until I got my revenge on Quinn. I told everyone she had crabs, which was funny as fuck. However, Quinn failed to see the hilarity and attacked me in the hallway. The next day, we were BFFs again. It happened like this again and again, over and over. Only now, now that Quinn is no longer a Cheerio (yet), are we friends. I say friends, but really, I think she hates me. I guess you could say we have a love-hate relationship going on-I love her, she hates me. Great.

To be honest, I shouldn't have felt jealous when I saw her talking to some new girl. But I was. It consumed me, as I watched Quinn blushing away, scuffing her feet like a nervous little girl, telling a boy she has a crush on. This new girl didn't seem to mind-in fact, she was chattering away, and as she was, I couldn't help noticing the beak on her. I leant against my locker, suddenly feeling depressed and exhausted, tired. Tired of what, though? The fact that Quinn won't look at me that way, the way I look at her? Tired of the fact that I'm nothing more than a one-night stand to everyone? I don't know.

I did know that Quinn was coming my way however, trying to push past everyone. Now that she was off the Cheerios, no one acknowledged her anymore. Before, crowds would part like the Red Sea. Now? Not so much.

I stared at her as she passed, hoping she'd look at me and wave, or something. She did look at me, but with a look of disgust on her face. I felt like sliding down the lockers and crumpling on the floor. That look…that look killed me. I was _nothing _to Quinn Fabray. She thought I was a slut, a whore. I don't blame her. I am. I sleep around. I screw people over. I mess with people's feelings. I was sleeping with Puckerman whilst he was 'sort-of-dating' Quinn. Well, how was I meant to know he loved her? Sure, she was pregnant with his child, but she was open about the fact that she regretted having sex with him.

I was fighting tears by this time. I couldn't bear to look at this new girl-it was obvious Quinn was under her spell. That was when Brittany came over. My best friend. Or so I thought. We were best friends, inseparable. Then she told me she was in love with me…and now everything is awkward, because I admitted I was in love with Quinn.

Brittany rested a hand on my shoulder, unsure whether to hug me or not. I'd rather she didn't. I brushed her hand off of me, turning away to look in my locker.

"Santana…" She pleaded, but I wouldn't look at her. Eventually, she got the message and walked away. And now I was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi again! Thanks so much for the feedback, means a lot. I found this next chapter hard to right; I wanted to create the perfect balance between clued up yet still slightly __ditzy, and nothing like the Season 3 Brittany. But, I've finished it! Please review, and enjoy!_

**Brittany's POV:**

Santana and I are best friends.

Well, we're meant to be. Best friends don't stop talking to you suddenly, do they? If they don't, then Santana isn't my best friend. Because, that's what she's done. She's ignoring me completely. It hurts, a lot.

I mean, maybe I shouldn't have told her I was in love with her. Maybe that freaked her out. But I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. She should be thanking me for my honesty. But she hasn't. She hasn't said a word to me since I told her.

Santana and I used to do everything together. And by everything, I mean _everything. _Including sex. _Especially_ sex. I guess the first time we had sex, which was also the first time I had ever had sex, was the first time I really…felt something for her. Afterwards, I went home and Googled how to be better at sex. I did that a lot. I wanted to be so good at sex that she couldn't help but fall for me. I wanted her to, one day, say 'I love you' after we had sex. She never did. I guess she never will.

I also tried watching porn to pick up some tips from the girls on that. But I got distracted, because, you know, it's _porn_.

Now we're not even friends, let alone besties. It makes me sad. Like a sad panda. I know she's not freaked out because I'm gay; she's freaked out because I love her, and she doesn't love me back. She doesn't want to hurt me, I guess. That's what she'd probably tell me, if we were still talking.

I see her watching Quinn when I'm watching her. It's so blatantly obvious about her feelings for Quinn, yet she refuses to tell the ex-Cheerio. Then again, Quinn is so completely oblivious. She thinks Santana hates her.

She doesn't. She really doesn't. She _loves _Quinn, like I love Santana. Why won't Santana see that Quinn doesn't care for her? Why won't she fall for me? What's wrong with me? Is it my eyes? I can get hazel eye contacts. We're both blondes, so it can't be the hair. I'm nicer than Quinn. Quinn has screwed Santana over, time after time, and yet, Santana always ends up forgiving her, even though I know that she knows she's going to get hurt. I'd never hurt Santana. But she doesn't see that. She doesn't see _me _anymore. Whenever I catch her eye in the hallway, she's not looking at me; she's looking _through_ me. It never used to be like that.

I keep telling myself to forget her, that she doesn't deserve me. I tried to tell myself not to be hurt when I saw her staring down the hallway at Quinn, who was talking to some new girl. But I couldn't help it. It was like my heart had literally been ripped from my chest, and then thrown at a wall continuously. Even the thought of Lord Tubbington riding a unicorn couldn't cheer me up. And that usually solves anything.

What made it ten times worse was the look on Santana's face when Quinn looked at her like she was a pile of crap. She was hurt. Destroyed. I did the only thing I could think of, and yes, I know it was a terrible idea...but I went over there. I was hoping to comfort her. I wanted to be there, to be a shoulder to cry on. I wasn't even thinking about making her fall in love with me. I hated seeing my Sanny all hurt and upset and stuff. It hurt me, too. I just wanted her to know that I was still her best friend, forever and always. Pinky promise.

But she blanked me. _Again_. I shouldn't be surprised. This definitely isn't the first time I've tried to talk to her and she's shaken me off, pretended I wasn't there. I know she doesn't hate me. But I just wish she would link pinkies with me again, and tell me she was my best friend, forever and always, pinky promise. And then I'd say the same back, and we'd smile that smile at each other, the smile I've grown to love so much, and we'd walk off, pinkies still laced. Sometimes I'd lean my head on her shoulder, and breathe in the scent of her perfume, Coco Chanel. After we stopped talking to each other, I bought a small, sample vial of the stuff, and I'd sniff it now and again, because it reminded me of Santana, and the memories we shared.

She missed my birthday, as well. I only wished for one thing. I wished that I had never told her I was in love with her.


End file.
